


lucifer struck the earth like lightning

by C_Sharp



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Autoerotic Asphyxiation, Blow Jobs, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, F/M, Friendship, Hair-pulling, M/M, Multi, Power Play, Scars, Sexual Tension, Smut, there is plot before the fun stuff, thought I'd get that one out of the way first, will add more as it happens
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:15:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26901988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/C_Sharp/pseuds/C_Sharp
Summary: John Silver goes through a lot in quick succession, but first he doesn't die in a ship wreck.Then he meets some pirates.
Relationships: Captain Flint | James McGraw/John Silver
Comments: 8
Kudos: 34





	1. Chapter 1

  
Waves lapped at his shirt, cold sinking into his skin only to be burned away by the blinding sun overhead. He lies on a broken part of the hull, he thinks, the rest of the ship scattered about the blue that stretches endlessly around him. He should be dead, that storm had broken the merchant ship so soundly the crew barely had time to scream before the depths engulfed them. All but John Silver, who had not died. Again.   
  
John could recount his life quite accurately just by all the times he hadn't died. He had survived being born a premature runt, had survived brutal beatings at the orphanage, had survived being dragged through muddy city streets by a horse. Those times made good stories, but here on the sea there was not a soul to hear them.   
  
He had closed his eyes at some point, letting the waves lull his mind. His exhaustion didn't allow him to feel panicked, hell he could slip off the broken drift and drown without noticing. Seagulls circled overhead, some absent part of John's mind recalled something about land but the thought slipped away before he could muster the effort to catch it. The birds called overhead, summoning their brethren to hunt for carrion. Time passed and the gulls got louder, John could barely keep his eyes open. It was like their calls got harsher the closer they got. You you you. Wait.   
  
John twisted his head to look up just as his body was overcome by a shadow.   
  
"You there!" A harsh, weathered voice called from above. Salvation. Fuck.   
  
John raised a shaking arm to signal that he'd heard. Some seconds ticked by and he had to drop the tired limb again, only for it to be hit by something rough and heavy.   
  
He gripped the rope, first with hands then legs, and felt the pull that drew him away from the waters surface. He hit the hull of the ship at some point, but all he felt were hands pulling him over the side onto a clean, if somewhat aged deck. Something pressed against his mouth and he sputtered for a moment, thinking he was beneath the waves, before he tasted the saltless water. He gulped it down hungrily, strength suddenly returning as he gripped the offered prize. Eventually he sat back, panting against the railing as he looked up at the men who had pulled him aboard.   
  
  
  
One towered over the other, he had bulging arms and hair cut closely to his scalp. The other was older, with a bald head and a stern gaze.   
  
"Thank you," John coughed out and god did his voice sound wrecked.   
  
"What happened here?" The older man asked gesturing out to the wreckage that their ship was now slowly moving past.   
  
"Storm," he felt as if he had more of his breath back now, "last night. We didn't see it coming." They really hadn't, one minute most of the crew were sleeping in their hammocks the next the warning bell was sounding and it felt like no time at all until they were in the water.   
  
"How is that possible? It must of been massive to tear that vessel apart," the tall man looked doubtfuly at John.   
  
"Look out was a drunk, navigator was shit; I don't know." Silver finally began to lever himself up so he could get a better look at the ship and crew that had rescued him. He noticed that some of the crew had gathered casually to watch the goings on, but most went about their duties which was surprising. Then he noticed the black, which was being hoisted down. Shit.   
  
"You're pirates?" It slipped out of his mouth before his brain could catch up, and fuck if the jeers of the gathered crew weren't answer enough. The tall man scoffed, and exchanged a disbelieving look with the old man.   
  
"Only just noticed have you? What's your name?"   
  
"John Sliver," he replied, his throat going dry again. The tall man rolled his eyes and turned to the onlookers.   
  
"Come on lads, back to work," and he walked off with the rest of them, corralling them as he went.   
  
"Well Mr Silver, welcome aboard. I'm Mr Gates the quartermaster of this vessel, and that there was Billy Bones our bosun."   
  
Mr Gates put a hand on his shoulder, prompting John to walk alongside him, leading him beneath the deck.   
  
"Are you injured?" Gates asked the young man as he followed behind him through the hull of the ship.   
  
"I could sleep for a week but other than that... it seems I was lucky." John was not particularly close to the other members of his crew, as master riggers fourth mate he'd been relatively low in social rank. Still there had been a few he'd drink or play cards with, and now they were all at the bottom of the sea.   
  
"More than lucky, I'd wager," Gates responded as they came to a stop in front of a cabin door. Gates knocked once then entered, pulling John in as well. Silver took in the room, quickly recognising it as the captains cabin, there were more books on the shelves than he was expecting for a pirate captain. The man himself was sat behind the desk looking over documents of some kind, he had red hair and John didn't know why that also surprised him. Perhaps it was the way the light from the windows hit each strand or the few hairs that hung over his brow that he pushed behind his ear. Mr Gates pushed John to stand in front of the desk, clapped a hand on his shoulder and promptly walked right back out of the room. Fuck.   
  
Silence.   
  
The captain didn't say a word, didn't look up from his papers. John became acutely aware of the fact that his clothes were still wet as they had begun to accumulate a puddle on the floor. Finally the captain looked up but still he didn't say anything. The man looked him up and down for a moment before his eyes settled in Johns own. And god if Silver couldn't feel his heart fucking racing, hell he could hear its beating in his ears. Flints eyes were a cold green grey.

They say the eyes are are the windows to the soul. Well if these eyes were windows then all the glass was shattered in the frames, concealing what's within effectively but barely holding it back.   
  
"Sit."   
  
John startles at the captains voice and quickly follows the order.   
  
"Name and rank held on the ship that wrecked?" The captain had an English accent. An educated English accent. The books began to make sense.   
  
"John Sliver, sir. I was riggers fourth mate." And for fucks sake John wishes he hadn't said that, a crew for a ship this big wouldn't need another rigger. Unless one of them had died recently; but John hadn't quite reached the stage of moral delapitation where he wished for a stranger's death.   
  
"Hmm," the captain kept staring at him, most likely considering his value.   
  
"But I can do whatever needs doing Captain..."   
  
"Flint."   
  
_Holy shit_. Captain Flint. A name so infamous that every sailor John had encountered whispered it with fear. And now John was sitting in his office like it was just another bloody Tuesday. He knows he's staring but he can't stop.   
  
"We need a cook, at least someone to assist the one we have," the Captain continues as if John's reaction to his name was completely normal. Then again to him it probably was.   
  
"Or you can sail with us to Nassau, and you can try your luck there," Flints eyes are steely as he says it, done with Silvers floundering.   
  
John clears his throat, fights the urge to fidget in his chair, and weighs the options before him. Not much of a choice either way.   
  
"I can help the cook while I'm aboard, as for when we reach Nassau... It's really up to you whether I stay or not." He finishes with one of his winning smiles, the ones that literally stopped him from starving to death as a child, Flint remains stoic however. The silence returns, as does the captains attention to the papers on the desk.   
  
"Should I -" John begins but Flint is quick to wave him off with a hand.   
  
Every step closer to the door he can feel the muscles of his shoulders releasing their tension, he reaches for the handle -   
  
"You know that's more of the quartermasters job, don't you? Ultimately he decides if you're a good fit for the crew." Flint let's his words just hang there, suspended between them, the rope tightens once again. And John can't move.   
  
He's experienced this feeling before of course, every human has. It's one of the most basic instincts of men; fight, flight or freeze. John had done his fair share of all three during his life, but for some inexplicable reason this moment felt brand new. It was strange because he wasn't frozen because of fear. He was frozen because Captain Flint had figured him out, or figured something out. And shit, John knew exactly what he was going to ask next.   
  
"It makes me wonder why you'd think the Captain would make that decision."   
  
He can feel Flints eyes boring into him again.   
  
There are rather simple explanations to those questions actually; because the last ship I was on didn't really need a riggers fourth mate either, because the captain was the one who kept me on board when I had no right to be there. Simple answers, if John were willing to tell the truth. Instead he turns around and straightens to his full height just to appear more confident.   
  
"Honestly Captain? My last quartermaster was shit."   
  
Flint huffed. Success.   
  
"You can go."   
  
John wasted no time at all and got out of there as quickly as possible. Gates appeared outside Flints cabin and shepherded him back through the ship, though Silver got the feeling this wasn't really his job.   
  
"So the Captain said I'm to aid the cook?" No he definitely didn't but John figured this was how he would remain mostly out of the way until the ship reached Nassau. Which was another matter entirely, best thought about later.   
  
"Thank fuck for that," Gates sighed with relief as they turned a corner. "Randall's a loyal crewmen but if I have to have another of his stews I'll stab him."   
  
John raised his eyebrows but remained mute as they arrived at what could, at a stretch, be described as a kitchen.   
  
"Randall this is John Silver, he'll be working with you," the quartermaster introduced John to the older man, whose stare was somewhere between imperious and absent minded.   
  
"Its nice to meet you," winning smile once again. Gates clapped him on the shoulder.   
  
"I'll leave you to it, but Silver you're not expected to work today after being wrecked. Randall show him a spare hammock would you?"   
  
With that he left and John was alone with the slightly confused looking man.   
  
"So what are you making tonight?" Nice easy conversation starter. Winning smile. Relaxed posture.   
  
"Stew."   
  
And the man went back to doing whatever he'd been doing before.   
  
Fucking pirates.   
  
****   
  
The next few days aboard the Walrus saw John spending most of his time wrestling with dirty plates and pots while Randall whispered to Betsy the cat in his bunk.   
  
People were watching him, it was subtle but it was there. Randall, Gates, Billy. Sometimes it was Flint, who would stand by the helm speaking with his navigator while those cold eyes grazed over John with seemingly no consequence. Silver was kept busy doing grunt work but he paid it no mind, it left him with the opportunity to observe right back. It didn't take long for him to notice the tensions among the crew. Weeds threatening to overtake the crops. The man Singleton was involved and there were murmurings of mutiny.   
  
John couldn't help but be baffled by the very notion. These men were crew under a legendary pirate captain, whose name did just as much to protect them as their swords and guns did. Despite that though they seemed intent to rally against him. Silver had overheard Billy discussing with Gates the lack of prizes in recent months. So they wanted money. That much was obvious, after all they were pirates but they seemed so certain that Flint would not be the one to lead them too it.   
  
The whole situation left questions swirling in his mind, and as he looked out over the moon kissed waves he knew he wouldn't get answers anytime soon. John was balancing above the deck in the rigging, the skeleton crew moving unharried bellow him. One of the riggers mates, John couldn't recall his name, had gotten drunk during the day making him unreliable for night watch. So John had been told to step in, and he had to admit he didn't mind being up here again. He closed his eyes for a moment, breathed deeply and got lost in the breeze that whipped around his face. The air smelt like salt and iron and hemp from the ropes.   
  
"How long have you been a sailor?"   
  
John startles and opens his eyes, which can't have been closed for more than a few seconds. There, standing on the railing below, gripping the ropes of the rigging and looking out to sea, was Captain Flint.   
  
"Uh- long enough," and it is. For John at least, he'd been done with sailing after two months. Flint huffs at his non-answer.   
  
"You don't like it." The boat rocks over the waves and Flint remains perfectly balanced.   
  
"Were you a rigger?" John can't help but ask at he looks at Flint maybe three feet below him, completely at ease.   
  
"Vanguard," and John's surprised that he answers. Perhaps Flint is too as he tears his eyes from the horizon and looks at John fully.   
  
His eyes look black under the moon.   
  
"Why did you become a sailor?"   
  
"Can't really say I ever did."   
  
Flint scoffs again.   
  
"Why were you chasing the ship I was on?"   
  
And suddenly John can feel the waves again, can hear the footsteps of the night crew, like a spell had been broken.   
  
Flint leaves the railing, stepping down without pause and walks up the deck away from the questions and non-answers of his newest crewman. John watches him leave, waits until he's gone through the door to the hold. Then he follows.   
  
He's quiet and quick on his feet, no one pays him any attention and as they're only a day or so from Nassau, they're unlikely to see any other non-pirate ships. So there's not much need for him above decks right now.   
  
He can hear the captains footsteps a ways in front of him even if he can't see him. There are no lamps lit down here, he notices idly. Through the dark he follows those foot falls to the food store, the captain was probably doing a final count before they came ashore.   
  
The silence is tense and the dark squeezes around him until-   
  
The back of John's head hits the wall, there's an arm pinning him across his throat. He sees stars for a moment, a throbbing had begun in his skull, rattling him from his train of thought.   
  
"I know you're new here but surely you don't lack this much common sense," Flint says the words through gritted teeth while leaning into John's space.   
  
"You- my question," Silver rasps. The lack of air makes his head swim. Flint doesn't let up.   
  
"What right do you have to any answers from me? You are not even a real member of this crew."   
  
John, still trying to pull breath into his body, clutched at Flints arm bringing one of his hands to the other mans and grabbed at his fist. Finally the Captain stepped back from Sliver.   
  
"I almost died on that ship," John's voice rasps in the dark. Flint still looms over him even if they're no longer touching.   
  
"I know what was on it, and it wouldn't have been worth much."   
  
"Some prizes are worthy, some are not. Whatever we end up with is chance," Flint explains. He's lying, and Flint knows he knows. He has to, he's too smart not to.   
  
"I think I understand why your crew don't like you," Silver's not sure why he says it but this time its Flints turn to freeze.   
  
Then he laughs. It's a short violent thing, like its breaking out of his chest.   
  
"They don't need to like me so long as they do as their told."   
  
John feels his mouth go dry. God. He's close enough to see the bitterness on Flints face, even in the dark. It's too much to look at so he looks away to where Flints chest is heaving up and down with barely concealed rage. His mouth is still dry.   
  
"Singleton wants to mutiny."   
  
Surprise flashes over Flints face, just for a second before he settles on neutrality.   
  
"I know."   
  
John can't help his scoff. In the dark their postures relax minutely, but Flint is still within arms reach. He's looking in his eyes again.   
  
"I think they need to."   
  
"What?"   
  
"I think they need to like you."   
  
John can't look away now, can't see anything else.   
  
"No one liked my last captain very much and look what happened to him," John says with a shrug.   
  
"Of all the things likely to kill me, Silver, the weather is perhaps the least likely."   
  
Fuck, was that the first time he'd called John by his name?   
  
"Call me John."   
  
There's a pause.   
  
"John."   
  
He says it like it's a question and fuck. Silver's the one whose breath is heaving now.   
  
"Do you think a storm is chasing you John?" Flints tone is amused, and he seems to have relaxed, the set of his shoulders coming looser. John considers his question for a moment.   
  
"You'd be surprised." Shit his tone of voice sounded too grim, too serious for the levity Flint had steered their conversation to.   
  
The captain looks at him, considering.   
  
"I should get back on deck," and John tries to leave. A hand pushes into his chest, he stumbles back with the force of it and he's against the wall again. The hand stayed. Fingertips on his sternum but Flint didnt move any closer.   
  
"Did you ever hear anything about the course your previous ship was taking?"   
  
He had. In a way. He should lie. He could lie.   
  
"Why?"   
  
Flints eyes search his. John takes a deep breath and the captains fingers press into his skin as his chest rises.   
  
"Come to my cabin at this time tomorrow," Flint drops his hand and stalks off without so much as a by your leave. Huh.   
  
John is left alone in the dark so he takes a moment to compose himself. He smooths a hand down the front of his shirt, bunches the fabric in his fist over his sternum. His mind tries to wander down a dangerous path, but he pushes off the wall and quickly gets back to work.   
  
****   
  
The next day is torturously slow, they're due to arrive in Nassau within the next few hours. John can't help but wonder if he'll even still be on the ship when night falls again.   
  
The crews spirits seem torn between happiness at their approaching home and anger at their lack of a prize. John had overheard Dufresne muttering numbers to himself and had taken a peek at his ledger without the other mans notice. The crew had barely broken even. He also idly notices that they were paying him for his weeks work. He wasn't sure if that was strange or not.   
  
It seemed to get hotter, impossibly so, to the point where half the crew were working shirtless. John had made do with pushing his sleeves up to his elbows and using a strip of cloth to keep his hair out of his face. He tried not to look enviously at Billie, who had a very impressive physique but also looked significantly cooler than he did. John couldn't take his shirt off though, if only to avoid the inevitable questions that would follow. He kept working, tirelessly and sweating more than he had in his life. Fuck he was glad they were approaching land so he could have a bath soon.   
  
"Silver?" Gates' voice broke John out of his sweaty reverie.   
  
He blinked up at him from where he was sitting. Randall had made him do the final count for the food so he would have to be the one to face Dufresne when he delivered their final numbers. The accountant would not be happy. He regretted telling Randall he could read and write.   
  
John put down the pencil he'd been writing up the numbers with and wiped his hands on his shirt.   
  
"Mr Gates! What do I own the pleasure?"   
  
Gates snorted and rolled his eyes, John was slowly winning him over it seemed.   
  
"You're to stay aboard later to do final clean up, you can join the rest of the crew in Nassau when you're done."   
  
"Seems I'm doing final everything today," John gestured to the scrap of parchment in front of him, "but of course Mr Gates. Only right that I earn my keep after this crew saved my life."   
  
Gates just shook his head at the mans platitudes and turned to go check on another crewman.   
  
"Just get those numbers to Dufresne within the hour!"   
  
"No problem!" And it really wouldn't be because he'd been done for over half an hour.   
  
****   
  
The crew departed the ship in the early evening before the sun set. Darkness fell and John tried not to look longingly at the lights of the island. It had been a long time since he'd seen somewhere so busy and vibrant that wasn't a fucking ship.   
  
He cleaned slowly, wasting as much time as possible, still sweating like a pig despite the reprieve of the inky sky. Surreptitiously, he glanced around. Everyone else left aboard was busy elsewhere, so his little portside corner wasn't likely to be disturbed. John dropped the cloth he'd been holding and quickly stripped his shirt off, glancing around once again.   
  
He got back to work without much fuss, very carefully not looking at white lines scattered across his body.   
  
When the moon rose high John slumped against the railing and slid down until he was sitting. He took a few deep breaths, wondering what would come of this meeting with Flint.   
  
In his mind he saw flashes of the other mans face from the night before, could see the anger there. He could still feel Flints hand on his chest. He rubbed at the bare skin there for a second, fingers catching on a ridged scar.   
  
John closed his eyes and clenched his fist, a fruitless effort to fight back that particular memory.   
  
"Sleeping on the job John?"   
  
Fuck not again.   
  
He snapped his head up and there was Flint. Towering like a wave, breaking the calm night.   
  
"Captain," he said because he had no idea what else to say.   
  
Flint was looking at him, careful gaze moving over his body.   
  
Shit, he wasn't wearing a shirt.   
  
He needed to get up, but he was being held there by his own heart which was now heavier than an anchor in his chest.   
  
"The merchant vessel you were on, it came from Spain?"   
  
"I- yes," John stutters over the question he wasn't expecting.   
  
"Is that where you boarded?" Flint asks, taking a step closer to gauge John's reaction.   
  
"No, I boarded in Portugal." He really needed to stand up now because Flints boots were almost level with his and John was having to crane his neck just to look at the man properly. Though the captain probably enjoyed this little power play.   
  
"Why would the ship dock in Portugal?"   
  
"Last supply run," John said as he pushed himself up until he was standing. Fuck, this was worse. He was too close to Flints face now.   
  
"Seems risky, they must have needed a lot of supplies."   
  
John sat back as nonchalantly as he possibly could on the railing. Very conscious of the fact that Flint was barely an arms length away and he himself wasn't wearing a shirt.   
  
"Why don't you just ask what you want to ask Captain?"   
  
Flint stilled for a moment, as if he'd become a statue in that second. Then a smirk broke across his face, clearly amused by John's audacity.   
  
John's mouth went dry. Just like last night.   
  
"You're going to tell me," the captain said.   
  
And all of a sudden the night felt a thousand degrees more stifling.   
  
John stood and took purposeful steps towards Flint until he was close enough to speak into the pirates ear.   
  
"We were carrying a lot of supplies..."   
  
He can feel Flint breathing, breath ghosting over his neck with every exhale.   
  
"... but they weren't for us."   
  
John leaves that there between them, and something like relief settles into Flints shoulders.   
  
The captains hand grips his bicep suddenly and Silver just about stops himself from jumping.   
  
The taller mans hand is wrapped around one of his scars. The one that extends from his shoulder almost to the crease of his elbow.   
  
"I didn't take you for much of a fighter," Flint says. His eyes flicking across John's torso, taking in every raised slash and bump, pausing momentarily on the one that was inexplicably the exact same width as a cutlass. Right in the centre of his chest.   
  
"I know what you're chasing," John says to deflect Flints attention and he knows when Flint catches his eye the captain is going to let him.   
  
"What am I chasing John?"   
  
His hand tightens on Silvers arm. John dimly registers that any plan he may have had is firmly in danger of crumbling to pieces.   
  
"Well..." He flashes his most charming smile, "I suppose it will be what I chase too."   
  
Flint frowns, but there's the beginnings of a smile there in the corner of his eye.   
  
"You're an odd fellow, John."   
  
"Orphanages will do that too you," he quipped; trying unsuccessfully to break the inexplicable tension.   
  
"Did you learn anything useful at this orphanage?" Flint raises his eyebrow and John's breath stutters on his lips.   
  
"A lot of scripture mostly..."

Here was the moment.

"'For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the Lord,'" John smirks in a way that matches Flints earlier, "'plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.'"  
  
He finishes the quote quietly, casting a significant look at Flint.   
  
The Captain considers the man before him.   
  
He takes his hand from John's arm and casts a look around them to the darkened deck before locking eyes with Silver once again.   
  
He puts his hand on the other mans shoulder. His thumb presses lightly against John's neck.   
  
"Let me tell you about a Spaniard named Vasquez."   
  
****


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *tictoc audio* girl don't do it

They retired to Flints cabin after he'd told his tale; John's mind was still pawing over the information and he felt a sense of vindication at finally having the full story.  
  
Of course back on the merchant vessel Silver had obtained some idea of what was going on. He had began to suspect from the very beginning of that voyage, after all why would a Spanish ship risk docking in Portugal. The captain of that ship had been practically spilling information for embarrassingly little in return. It hadn't taken him long to take a look at the old captains ledger when the man passed out drunk. What Silver had seen there was a trail of money, leading to what he now knew was the Urca de Lima.  
  
John was sat across from Flint again, a mirror of the first meeting. Except now he wasn't dripping wet, except now he was on equal ground. It was unexpected, that his semblance of a plan had taken this direction as opposed the original. It had involved him selling the information to the highest bidder and disappearing forever.  
  
He was wearing a shirt now, the scars on his upper body concealed once again. Flint had poured them both a drink, and if John were a betting man he'd say they were celebrating.  
  
"How did you find out what you know? You weren't exactly high up on the rung on your last ship. I can't imagine your captain being particularly forthcoming," Flint asked then took a sip of the amber liquid in his glass.  
  
"You'd be surprised," John ran a hand through his hair to brush it out of his eyes. "I'm quite good at getting people to like me."  
  
Flint snorts and takes another sip, John mimics his action while watching the man over the top of his tumbler.  
  
"Why?"  
  
The question stumps John for a second, "plans change. I decided I'd probably gain more hunting this prize with you than selling it." He hopes the admission doesn't anger Flint but the other man smirks and shakes his head.  
  
"Not that. Why are you good at getting people to like you?"  
  
John swallows his liquor roughly and puts his glass on the desk. To his dismay he begins to fidget under Flints gaze. He brushes back his hair again, scratches at his thigh, looks at the glass on the table instead of at Flint. All the while the captain watches his movements.  
  
"Is it because of the scars?"  
  
And John freezes. An almost exact mirror of the first meeting once again. Now however he's facing the captain and the man can see his how his eyes flash with something like rage, how his jaw clenches at the question.  
  
"That is-" no more words make it past Silvers tongue, and he flicks his eyes around the room to distract himself from his mounting anger.  
  
Flint stands abruptly and circles around the desk. He leans against it just off to the side of where John is sitting. They're much closer now and John has to look up at him again.  
  
For once in his life he lets what he's feeling take over his face. Silver glares at the captain, all together sick of this constant power play.  
  
"You don't get to ask that," he bites out. "Have I not told you what you wanted, have I not proved that I've chosen you over any other option? You don't need to know about my scars or how I got them, if I want you to know I'll tell you myself. I won't give in to any of your posturing."  
  
He's breathing heavily by the time he's finished. Flint is giving him an assessing look, which confuses John no end.  
  
Because Flint looks impressed. Surprised but impressed.  
  
At that realisation John suddenly feels very satisfied.  
  
This makes his stomach flip and any rage he felt drains away. Replaced by something unmistakable.  
  
Flints gaze is like a burning brand on him.  
  
"I apologise John."  
  
Silver surges out of his seat and captures the captains lips with his own. Flints arms wind around his waist and pull him impossibly closer, John's own loop around the taller mans neck. Flints lips are soft but dry, though that doesn't last long as he kisses John back with equal fervour.  
  
Flints hands smooth down John's ass, his lips trail from the mans mouth down to his neck. He bites gently at the flesh there, then upon hearing John's whine and feeling his hands tugging at his hair, allows his teeth to worry John's neck roughly before soothing it with his tongue. John moans and James lifts him so his legs wrap around his waist. Silver frantically begins to divest the captain of his coat, hand fumbling with the buttons under the onslaught of sucking bites along the column of his neck.  
  
Flint sits John down on the desk and brings his hands up to John's hair, giving it a firm tug and pulling the mans back to the tabletop. John whines when Flint takes his hands and mouth off of him to finish stripping his coat and shirt. Hungry eyes drink John in as he lays against the desk, legs wide apart to allow Flint to stand between them.  
  
The captain runs his hands up John's thighs to the hem of his shirt.  
  
"Can I take this off?" Flint asks in a voice rough with want.  
  
John is stunned for a moment before nodding, "yes, yes..." he sits up and Flint pulls the shirt over his head. Their lips meet once again as James fingers grope at John's chest. John can't find it in himself to be embarrassed at the noises he's making as Flint pinches at his nipple with one hand and fists his hair in the other.  
  
Silvers fingernails drag along Flints back and the man groans into John's mouth. Feeling the need to touch Flint more, he pulls the man closer so he can kiss his way down James neck until he has his mouth and tongue on Flints nipples.  
  
"Fuck, John," Flint moans and brings his hands to John's trousers. He presses his hand against Silvers straining cock through the fabric.  
  
John's breath stutters and his hips jerk against the pressure. Silver manages to tear his lips from Flints chest and he looks the man in the eye. He takes a hold of Flints wrist, where the mans hand is still tangled in his hair and slowly guides it to his neck.  
  
Flints eyes are blown wide, and he presses his fingers into the sides of John's neck carefully.  
  
"Yes..." John rasps and his eyes flutter at the steady pressure, loving the heady feeling that fills his mind and causes any other thought but this feeling to drift away.  
  
Spurred by John's pleasure Flint palms the other mans cock while applying more pressure with the hand around John's neck. In his head he counts slowly to five before relaxing his hand, but not letting go. He also takes the hand off of John's cock and begins to unbutton his trousers. The dark haired man groans when his erection is released from the confines of his pants and gasps when Flint grips it. James pumps his hand slowly up and down, and John whines, his nails scratching on Flints back.  
  
"C- Capt-" John's voice is choked off as Flint increases the grip of his hand around John's neck while speeding up his ministrations on his cock.  
  
"Call me James," Flint presses his forehead against John's, his voice swimming in lust as he unravels his partner.  
  
James thumbs the head of John's cock, and twists on the upward stroke of his hand. The other man groans and tilts his head to capture Flints mouth.  
  
"James," he whines against his lips. Flints breath stutters and he becomes entirely focused on John's pleasure, ignoring his own aching cock in his trousers.  
  
He pumps his hand faster and applies an even pressure on Silvers neck.  
  
"I, I'm going-" John gasps at the building wave of pleasure in his gut.  
  
"Let me see you come John," Flint whispers into his ear, and with a groan John comes, his hips stutter against James fist.  
  
James doesn't let him go until he's wrung his orgasm from him completely and John presses his head to the juncture of James' neck whining at the overstimulation.  
  
Finally, James releases John from the grip of his hands and wraps his arms around him, smoothing his hands up and down his back.  
  
The breathing is the only sound to be heard in the room, and the slow slide of James hand up his back slowly brings John out of his fucked out stupor.  
  
He looks up at the man holding him and accepts the tender press of James' lips against his own.  
  
"How did you know I'd...?" Flint asks, his voice rough.  
  
"I didn't, but I wanted to." John replies, his breathing settled. He brings a hand up to trace Flints cheek bone with his thumb, threads his hand in his coppery hair and pulls him in to kiss him again.

"Why did you let me kiss you?" Its John's turn to ask when they break for breath.

"Because I wanted you to."

John is struck by how honest Flint is being, how honest he himself is being. He takes James' hand in his own and slides off the desk. He doesn't stop until his knees hit the floor. James clenches his jaw to hold back the appreciative groan at seeing John on his knees.

"You seemed to like this earlier, up on deck. When I was sitting on the floor and you were towering over me."

It takes everything James has to nod, not trusting himself to speak.

John's hands settle on Flints thighs, teasing his fingertips along the waistband of his breeches.

"Can I take these off?"

"Yes," the captain notices his own voice sounds wrecked and John hadn't even done anything yet.

Silver wasted no time and unbuttoned James' trousers. Flints hand found purchase in John's hair once again and the man gasped as his cock was freed. He was overcome with sensation as John licked his cock from root to tip, his tongue flattened along the underside until he came to the head where he swirled his tongue over the slit, gathering Flints leaking precome.

James used all his self control to stop himself from thrusting into Silvers warm mouth. The other man noted the self control and immediately wanted it broken.

John sealed his mouth over the head of James' cock and hollowed his cheeks; Flints hand tightend in his hair. John continued suckling at the tip until he could hear Flint whining, until the grip on his hair was painful. 

He took a slow breath through his nose and then sank down James dick until it filled his mouth, and then further until it hit the back of his throat.

"Fuck", the curse punched out of Flint and the man shuddered at the feel of John's mouth around him. He looked down to see the other man looking up at him.

John kept eye contact as his mouth pulled back up Flints cock, sucking with hollowed cheeks and licking over the head when he got to the tip.

Then he engulfed him again, and again. John repeated the action over and over until James was moaning and gasping expletives.

Finally, Flint thrust into his throat and John's eyes rolled back in his head. Silver squeezed his hips and nodded as much as he could. James came undone. 

He pulled his hips back and thrust again into the wet heat of Silvers mouth. James kept his eyes on John the entire time as he thrust in and out of the mans lips. Keeping his pace as steady as possible so Silver was able to take small breathes of air through his nose when he was on the outward stroke.

James could feel the pressure collecting in his groin and his thrusts became more erratic. John gulped at Flints cock greedily, knowing the man was close.

"John-" he came with a broken moan, hands tangled in Silvers curls, legs shaking.

John swallowed the salty liquid with his own appreciative whimper. When Flints hands go slack he pulls off his cock and stands.

Flint collapses into the chair behind him and tucks his softening dick back into his trousers. Both of them get themselves to some level of presentablity but neither bother with their shirts quite yet.

"We have to go to shore soon," Flint points out, voice gruff and heavy with satisfaction. 

John actually laughs.

James raises an eyebrow at him in silent question.

"Its just, I've been wanting to get away from the bloody sea ever since I set foot on a ship. Who would've thought all it would take to make me want to stay would be a good fucking."

Flint snorts, "that was good; but if it's a fucking you want you'll have to wait til next time."

"Is that a promise James?" John asks saliciously, not expecting any kind of answer.

"Certainly not one I'd make to any other crewman," Flints says, tone witty but his intent serious.

"So I'm a member of this crew?"

James looks at him like he's stupid and John has to laugh. 

"What happens now?"

"I talk to Eleanor Guthrie," James states.

"She's the one who takes care of trade on the island?" Silver asks, he'd heard about her from some of the crew. James nods and pulls his shirt over his head. John tries not to be disappointed. Then he remembers something else.

"Will your woman mind? That we..." he's not sure how to finish as Flint shoots him a glare while shrugging on his coat.

"She is none of your business."

John nods in understanding, he can feel Flints irritation. He doesn't realise he looking at the floor until James tilts his head up by his chin.

"She- we're not possessive of eachother like that, we've known eachother for too long."

It occurs to him that Flint doesn't owe him this explanation, and he has no idea how to react to that.

"I understand," is all he can say. To his surprise James kisses him again, just a quick press of lips before pulling away completely.

He reaches for Flints hand and guides it to the short scar on his forehead, almost hidden by his hairline. 

"I was pushed down some stairs and cracked my head open," he says because Flints admittance had him feeling unbalanced. He knows James can tell because he scoffs quietly but then traces his thumb across the scar.

"I'm surprised that didn't kill you."

Oh he had no idea. 

"I was young, kids bounce back."

Flint hums in agreement, runs his hand through John's hair then let's his arm drop. 

"Put a shirt on Mr Silver."

"Yessir, Captian." John smirks and Flint rolls his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did it


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went back and edited the end of chapter 1 bc I rushed it originally, it changes from "am I a part of this crew" (12/10/20)
> 
> What's that I see on the horizon?

It wasn't exactly a surprise, what happened when they reached the shore. He, Flint and the remaining crew had shared a small boat to the jetty. The journey had been quiet, there was some small talk exchanged by a few of the men; but neither he nor the captain had felt the need to say anything.    
  
Flint had caught his eye as he was climbing out of the boat, before turning and walking up the jetty towards who knows where. Wherever his woman lived probably.    
  
John was led into Nassau town by a couple of the men and of course they brought him to a brothel.    
  
So, yes, not surprising.    
  
What was unexpected was the _four_ prostitutes. For a start he wasn't sure how the hell they could afford it.    
  
"Is this really necessary?"    
  
"Don't look a gift horse in the mouth Silver!" One of the crew (Ben maybe?) said before pushing him into the room.    
  
"You're one of us now, everyone gets the same initiation," Muldoon added, grinned and slammed the door shut.    
  
The women were, in a word, beautiful and on any other day he would've been raring to go. However he'd had his own little initiation with Flint barely an hour ago and didn't really feel the need to have another one.   
  
Fucking hell. Flint had known, that's what that fucking look was on the jetty.    
  
"Sorry about them," he jerks his thumb at the closed door. 

The girls looked at him as if he were a particularly difficult puzzle, and they aren't wrong to.   
  
"There is nothing to apologise for," the woman with kohl lined eyes responded. Her accent probably made her quite popular.   
  
"I'm John," he nods at each of the women in turn. They exchange a look between eachother. Fuck.   
  
"And I'm Max; this is Idelle, Charlotte and Anna."   
  
"Its very nice to meet you ladies, you're all very beautiful but I-"  
  
"You know we are here to provide you with whatever your heart desires. In this room, you may do anything you wish," Max interrupts him while walking slowly towards the bed. Shit he had to end this somehow.   
  
"Anything?"  
  
"Anything," Charlotte answered with a flirtatious smile.   
  
"Can I have a bath?"   
  
"For fucks sake," Idelle muttered from where she was leant against the wall, "go get water Anna."   
  
Anna, a girl with blonde ringlets framing her angelic face, looked confused but scurried out of the room nonetheless.   
  
"How old is she?" John directed at Max, a frown forming on his brow.   
  
"Eighteen."  
  
"No." He let his genial facade slip around his eyes as he glared at Max.  
  
"I'm not the one who put her here, your crew mates chose," Max did not seem dismayed in the least by his glare but she seemed to be considering him more deeply.   
  
"Do you prefer them older?" It's Idelle, who has made her way over to the bed before sitting on the mattress and making herself comfortable. Charlotte rolled her eyes at her friends antics.  
  
"What? Clearly he doesn't want a fuck right now, and we're meant to be in this room for the next hour. So I may as well make myself comfortable."  
  
Joh snorts, "she has a point you know."   
  
"Its their dime," Charlotte says with a shrug and goes to sit on one of the chairs at the small table by the window.   
  
Max seems to be deliberating something in her head, but then sits next to Idelle.   
  
"You know they won't like it if you fail their _initiation_."  
  
"We could lie," John supplies, knowing what's coming already.   
  
"What do we get for that?" Of course its Max who says it, Silver can already sense that there is far more to her than meets the eye.   
  
"Well for a start your Madam won't find out you've been doing nothing for an hour," all three women narrowed their eyes so he quickly changed tactics. "And if we've got this room for an hour and the crew are paying the tab, you three can get whatever you want."   
  
Again the women exchange looks with eachother, the kind of silent communication born from years of camaraderie.   
  
"Will Anna be allowed to stay if we're not doing anything?" Charlotte asks.  
  
"No, I'd rather the crew understood me on _that_ matter straight away; and the only way they'll know is if she's sent away from the beginning."   
  
Another look is passed around the room and finally Max nods.   
  
John breathes a sigh of relief and in no time at all Anna returns carrying buckets of water. Behind her there's a smallish boy carrying a heavy wooden tub, and John can't help but relieve the lad of his burden.   
  
Idelle smirks at him and he just rolls his eyes. He wants a bath, badly, but he doesn't want some child to injure himself in the process.   
  
"Anna, the gentleman has requested that it is just the three of us today," Max indicates to herself, Charlotte and Idelle. "You may go, thank you."  
  
"Thank you for bringing the water," John says and adds a kind smile to ease the girls feelings.   
  
Anna looks cowed by Max, but nods and manages a small smile to Silver before she leaves.   
  
"Boy, can you bring the gentleman some food, also soap, a comb... Anything else?" Idelle directs to the room.  
  
"He has expressed his admiration for my voice and wishes to hear me read, fetch my book from my room." Max instructs. John conceals a smirk behind his hand.   
  
"Right away sir," the boy says and runs off.   
  
"This hour might be more interesting than I thought."  
  
"I should hope so John, we're the best at what we do," Charlotte chimes and Idelle laughs loudly. Max and Silver exchange a look of exasperation, then surprise when they realise what they'd done.   
  
****  
  
  
It's about half an hour later and Silver is soaking in the bath while the three women do as they wish.  
  
Max is reading on the bed, Idelle and Charlotte are eating at the table. None of them asked questions about his scars, but he'd expected that. They also hadn't asked about the bruises that were on his neck, that he'd previously been covering with a length of cloth fastened at his nape. Women had an uncanny ability to tell when men didn't want to talk about something.   
  
"What's your book about?" He asks as he runs the soap along his arms.   
  
"Trade in the new world."   
  
"Sounds awful."  
  
Idelle hums in agreement.   
  
"It is interesting for me, and that is all that matters," Max replies not taking her eyes off the page.   
  
"What kind of books do you like reading?" Charlotte asks.   
  
"I've read a lot, but most of it was shit about god. Some of the political journals were alright, mythology was good."  
  
"Isn't that just the same as religious stuff though?" Idelle asks through a mouthful of meat.   
  
"The politics or the mythology?" John asks with a smirk. She just shrugs as she continues eating.   
  
"I suppose they have similarities, but myths and politics are less demanding in nature."  
  
"Not a godly man John?" Max quips.   
  
"Godly? That ship's sailed. I might be the opposite of that now," he chuckles and proceeds to dunk his head under water.   
  
"I often hear people call this place unholy, so perhaps you're where you are meant to be," Charlotte says when he resurfaces.   
  
"This brothel or Nassau?"   
  
"As an unholy place? Definitely Nassau," Max answers.   
  
John stands and climbs out of the tub to dry himself.   
  
"Do you have clean clothes to put on?"   
  
"Nicked some from the ship, I'm sure they won't be missed."  
  
The clothes were a mix of hand me downs that Flint had directed him to after their... encounter. A combination of things left behind by past crewman shared amongst the current incumbent. They were meant to ask the quartermaster before taking anything but John figured if Flint had let him it would be fine. Fuck he needed to not think about Flint while he was still naked.   
  
"Is it true Flints crew rescued you?" Idelle asked as pulled on some trousers.   
  
"Yes, I was on a merchant vessel. It got downed in a storm."  
  
"And you're a pirate now?"  
  
"And I'm a pirate now."  
  
He's been worse things after all.   
  
"So what are we going to be telling the lads downstairs, because I'm sure they've noticed how quiet it's been." Charlotte pointed out and gathered the used plates from the table.   
  
"We could say I gagged you?" He hopes to fuck that he isn't overstepping.   
  
Max considers his proposal, but doesn't seem offended.  
  
"All three of us? A little unrealistic."  
  
"We could say you gagged me?"   
  
All three women look at him in disbelief before quickly wiping their expressions.   
  
"That could work," Charlotte says suppressing a smile.  
  
"Are you prepared for how those men will react?"   
  
Idelle messes up her hair and smudges her make up, the other girls quickly follow suit.   
  
"I'm sure they'll think it's perfectly thrilling."  
  
John messes up his own wet hair and pulls the shirt into a position that reveals the bruises Flint had left earlier.   
  
Max raises her eyebrows but wisely keeps her mouth shut.   
  
"Let's go then," Idelle ushers them out of the room but indicates to Silver that he should leave last.   
  
He hoped the audience that received them would be easy to convince.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Girl Gang!!!


	4. Chapter 4

The tavern was loud with the kind of noise that spilled onto the street, and it was only late afternoon. Almost every chair was filled, to the point where much of the floor space was taken up by people standing around tightly packed tables.   
  
Men jostled eachother at the bar, shouting their orders and starting arguments with equal regularity.   
  
Flints crew had staked out at a table in the corner of the room, with most of them already halfway to drunk. What John noticed though was who wasn't there.   
  
Singleton and the men who followed him were elsewhere. If the look on Billy's face was anything to go by then this was something to be worried about. Flint and Gates were also absent, but this apparently was quite normal as Flint despised the rowdiness of the tavern and Gates was given a free pass for putting up with them while at sea.   
  
"I wasn't expecting it to be like this!" John called to Billy over the din of the room.   
  
"What? Loud?"   
  
"No, crowded! I've never seen so many pirates in one place."   
  
"That's Nassau for you! It's a new world! One where we can be free!" Joshua cheered, joined by the men on their table as well as a few others who had overheard.   
  
"Had you seen many pirates before we pulled you out of the the sea?" Billy's voice actually carried quite easily, but perhaps that's because he was used to projecting over a crowd.   
  
"Not while at sea, in some taverns like this perhaps but I didn't exactly go up to them and ask."  
  
"Wise move," Joji chimed in with a sly smile that John returned.   
  
  
"Oi! They want us to sure up the tab before we get another round!" A pissed off Muldoon called from by the bar.  
  
"Shit, we might have to go." Joshua said and downed the last of his drink.   
  
"We might have been able to stay longer if _someone_ hadn't run up the bill at the brothel," Billy explains and levels a glare at John.   
  
"Hey, set a limit next time and be glad I sent one of them away," John stares Billy down. The taller man looks away first.   
  
"He was just having a good time Billy, can't blame a man for his desires," Joshua chuckles, and the look Billy gives him says he _will_ be blaming men for their desires, thank you very much.  
  
"It's not his fault. Word's got round about what's been happening on the ship," Joji says in a hushed tone. His face grim.   
  
"I'm going to have Dooley whipped for his big fucking mouth." Billy drinks his last and stands, "I'll go take care of the bloody tab."  
  
"No no, let me. It's the least I could do, I owe you for the initiation anyway."  
  
John grins and makes his way to the bar, he claps Muldoon on the shoulder as he passes and tells him to sit down.  
  
"Make sure you get an itemized bill from Scott, don't let him overcharge you," Muldoon advises before loping off back to the table.   
  
Silver dons his most bashful smile and sidles up to the bar, effortlessly passing through the crush of patrons.   
  
Mr Scott sees him before he can call out and grabs a piece of paper from the barback. He comes to stand in front of Silver on the other side of the bar and holds the paper out.   
  
"Itemized bill?" John asks, surprised by the delivery.   
  
"Your crew think I overcharge them because I'm not fond of Flint," Scott explains and John takes the paper.   
  
"That's not a fair assumption."  
  
The statement has the desired effect. Mr Scott laughs, a deep booming thing with the same pleasant consistency in tone as his speaking voice.   
  
"Ah, you're the new one. You should know pirates don't trust anyone."   
  
Mr Scott's admission was true enough but in John's mind he can't help but think of Flint and what he'd said in his cabin about the woman he has here.   
  
"That's a sound observation, I'll keep it in mind."  
  
"See that you do."  
  
John glances over the bill and rolls his eyes. He hands over more money than was asked for, Mr Scott seems a good fellow and Silver never forgot about good people. Or bad ones, but that was besides the point.  
  
"Keep the change," John nods politely with a smile that is definitely more real than the one he walked up to the bar with.  
  
Mr Scott raises his brows but nods back.  
  
At that moment the tavern door opens and Flint trudges through with Gates on his heels. There's a hush for a second but it abates as quickly as it comes. Flint makes no fuss and walks directly upstairs.   
  
Mr Scott then signals someone who was carrying a tray of tankards to take his place and walks purposefully after the two men.   
  
Over at the table Silver had come from, Billy makes his excuses to the crew and follows Mr Scott.  
  
"What was all that about?" John asks when he returns to the table.   
  
"Guthries office is up there," Muldoon jerks his thumb towards the stairs.   
  
"Ah, I see."   
  
"So you didn't get another round then," Joshua gestures to the table that's so full of cups they may as well call it a tea service.   
  
"Is that wise with Flint just upstairs?"  
  
"He has a point," Joji knocks back the dregs of his ale, "come on. Help me get some of these layabouts outside before they pass out."   
  
They rally the drunker members of the crew outside, allowing them to stagger off where they wish. John looks up to the second floor of the tavern, and wonders which window is Guthries office.  
  
"Curious?" Jojis tone is carefully neutral as he comes to stand next to Silver.  
  
"Aren't you?"  
  
"I know better."   
  
"Than to be curious?"   
  
"Than to question Flint," Joji clarifies and John raises his eyebrows at that admission. "He has a reputation for a reason, I trust he has a plan that will have us prosper."   
  
So this was what loyalty to Flint looked like among the general crew, and he had to assume that the other men who had been at the pub were also loyal. He'd heard that Singleton was at the beach with his contingent of potential mutineers. The separation between the two sides, for Flint and against Flint, were much more obvious now that there was land beneath their feet.   
  
****   
  
  
They go to the beach, which was a bad idea to begin with but no better ones present themselves. It's just the four of them at this point; Joji, Muldoon, Joshua and John himself. The others were probably back at the brothel or had gone to see if there was any food to be had somewhere else.   
  
It was approaching sunset and the light bathed everything upon the sand in gold. They sat on the end of the jetty; Joshua dangled his feet in the water and Muldoon was lying back against the wooden slats.   
  
Part of John still couldn't believe that he was here. Nothing could've prepared him for the events of the past week, and he'd been through a fucking lot in life.   
  
"Those women really fucked up your neck, did you let them drink your blood too?" Muldoon quipped from where he was laying.   
  
"Perhaps I should have; I might have been able to charge _them_ ," the men share a laugh then sink into a comfortable silence. John scrapes a hand over his neck, feeling the sting left behind before letting his hand drop to his lap.   
  
"Look over there," Joshua whispers and nods towards the tents set up along the stretch of the beach.   
  
It's Singleton.   
  
He's with a few of his loyalists, talking to a tall thin man wearing a pair of eye shades.   
  
"Who's the other man? He's not from the Walrus," John looked to Joji guessing the other man would know.  
  
"That's Jack Rackham."   
  
"He's Charles Vanes quartermaster," Joshua adds.   
  
"That does not bode well," Muldoon finishes.  
  
John still couldn't believe Singleton was going against Flint, but even he had heard of Charles Vane and if he was on Singletons side...   
  
Singleton claps the other man on the shoulder and walks away, his lackeys trailing after him like ducklings.  
  
"Wait here."  
  
"Silver what the hell are you doing?" Joshua demanded but John ignored his protests as he made his way quietly across the beach.  
  
John tails the men until they're further up the beach, away from Rackham.   
  
"Singleton!" He raises an arm in greeting and smiles widely.   
  
The men whirl round, hands going to their weapons. Two of them had swords, the final three had daggers; John quickly put his hands up.   
  
"Woah! Gentlemen! Sorry if I caught you by surprise, I was just wondering if you could point me on the direction of the inn," he took a step forward and stumbled a little.   
  
"Piss off Silver, you look like you've had enough," a man with frankly awful facial hair said.   
  
"Ahhh come on, help a fellow crewman out."  
  
"Is that what you are now?" Singleton asked with a laugh.   
  
"I hope so, but I suppose that's up to people like you."  
  
"People like me?" Singleton narrowed his eyes.   
  
"Y'know ones with authority, I saw it on the ship, everyone listens to you."  
  
There's a beat of tense silence.   
  
Then Singleton laughs.  
  
"I suppose that's true," he looks at the men around him as he says it, a smug look on his face. John can't help but compare this man to the man he dares to stand against; and all he can see is Singletons face. Looking like he's the answer to the universes greatest questions.   
  
But Silver knows.  
  
Silver knows those answers already.   
  
He can't fucking do this. He can't pretend, even to find out what he needs to know. Shit.   
  
"They listen to lots of people."   
  
The jeers of the men in front of John cut off, and he takes a furtive glance around the beach to see that they are far enough away from people to be considered alone. They're also out of the line of sight for most people; it's enough.  
  
"You, Gates, Billy and of course Flint," he continues. "Lots of people listen to Flint; Guthrie for one, the other captains on this island. Which seems quite the feat."   
  
He takes another stumbling step towards the group, and their hands start itching towards their weapons again.   
  
"You don't know anything, you're just a pissed up cook," Singleton snaps, leering at John like a rabid dog about to charge.   
  
Wouldn't be his first rabid dog.  
  
"And you're a power hungry fool, doomed to fight a battle he can't win."  
  
"You watch your tongue!" One of the other men sneers.   
  
"You really think _you_ stand a chance against the likes of _Flint?_ " John laughs once and smiles openly at the men, "you're nothing."   
  
John hits the sand before he can blink.  
  
His nose is throbbing, he can taste blood in his mouth. Huh, he'd bitten his tongue.   
  
Another blow hits him in the gut, another to the head and for a second all he can hear is the ringing in his ears.   
  
Then Singleton yanks him up by his collar and leans in, "you have no idea what I'm capable of."   
  
"And what's that? John slurs.   
  
"You think Flint has the respect of the other Captains? Nah. Flint's got more enemies than friends on this island and _they_ have faith in _me. Captain Vane_ has faith in me. In two days time we'll call a vote, and I'll become the new Captain." Singletons eyes shine with rage and ambition, "and you know it's a shame Silver, that you won't be there to see it."  
  
Suddenly there's blood soaking into John's new shirt, pouring steadily from the slash across his neck. Of course.   
  
He slumps to the sand once again and as his vision begins to fade the last thing he sees isn't Singleton and his men walking away, though they do.   
  
The last thing he sees are the waves lapping at the shore, and the sun flickering as it dips below the horizon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look a cliff 😶


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween kids, have some Flint pov 😇

The plan, however seemingly reckless, was going well. Flint stomped down the stairs of the tavern, his eyes flicked to the table in the corner and saw that the crew had vacated. Good. He didn't need to deal with drunkards right now. However he needed to find Silver. John.    
  
Eleanor wanted to meet him, as Flint had revealed enough to her that she knew he was essential to the plan.    
  
It was an odd feeling. To be so sure of someone's intentions despite only knowing them for a short amount of time. He did wonder if he had been taken in somehow, bewitched by John's bright smile.    
  
They had been surprisingly transparent with eachother, Flint had seen his way through the other mans clever words easily enough. Just as Silver had seen through his.    
  
He'd told Miranda. She had smiled, and that was something real. She wanted to meet him too. He wasn't sure about those worlds colliding just yet.    
  
The sun had set while he was inside the tavern but the streets were unchanged. People hung around in doorways and laughter rattled window panes.    
  
Flint bathed in that for a moment, let it carry his senses away from himself. He walked slowly and alone, Gates and Billy had stayed behind. No doubt to discuss what Gates deemed 'his jackassery' in private. He had no quarrel with their venting; what he wanted to do was a risk. Goddamn was the risk worth it though.    
  
He was broken from the reverie by the rapid movements of someone unmistakably trying to move without being seen. It was Joshua.    
  
He frowned as he watched the man weave his way through the odd traveller that got in his way. The mans eyes darted around and his head craned in every direction, clearly searching for something.    
  
Flint decided to end this unsubtle show and approached his crewman to see what the hell was going on.    
  
When Joshua spotted the Captain his panic was palpable, and Flint sighed at the transparency of it. His face was already fixed into a stoic glare and he was pleased that it had the desired effect of freezing Joshua's frenzy.    
  
"Captain..." Joshua pants and stands to attention as much as a pirate  _can_ stand to attention.    
  
"Who are you looking for?"   
  
If Joshua were a more nervous man, if Joshua were anything else other than the cut throat pirate everyone saw him as; he may have quaked at Flints tone or the look on his face.   
  
Flint knew he wasn't that man though, he knew Joshua to be a fierce, composed and  _loyal_ man. So he waited for the man to collect himself.    
  
"I need Howell."   
  
"Are you injured?" Flint asks though he can't see any wounds on the man.   
  
"It's Silver, there's something wrong with him."    
  
For a moment it's as if the noise of the street drains away and Flint feels suspended, like he's drowning.   
  
Because he needed Silver for his undertaking to work. Flint saw no path forward without him.    
  
"Where is he?" He demanded.   
  
"We got him as far as the brothel. One of the women he had earlier saw us dragging him up the street and offered a bed," Joshua explained quickly. "We think he was injured, he went to talk to Singleton and when he came back he was pale, and he had blood on his shirt."    
  
The fact John had talked with Singleton was alarming. Shit. Silver had better not fucking die.   
  
"Howell went to see the herbalist, it's the one next to the butcher. Go get him, I'll go to Silver."    
  
"Aye Captain, Joji and Muldoon are with him too." With that Joshua sets off in one direction and Flint in another.   
  
****   
  
Inside the brothel he debates whether to ask where Silver is or just go upstairs and just start banging on doors. His decision is made for him though, when a woman with shining blonde hair takes his arm and guides him through the clusters of patrons with a muttered "this way."    
  
He's taken to a room on the ground floor, neither large nor small, it has no windows however and the smell of blood hits Flint immediately.    
  
John is lying shirtless on a single cot, his tattered crimson soaked shirt discarded on the floor. The room is lit by bright oil lamps and in this light Flint can't help but notice how stark his scars look against his pale skin.    
  
Joji and Muldoon hover while another woman cleans the blood from John's chest with a damp cloth.    
  
"I don't think it's his blood," she says, "he has no wound. An old scar on his neck but it doesn't look as if it's been bothered for years."    
  
Joji and Muldoon physically relax, only to jump when they notice Flint by the door.   
  
"Could he have coughed up the blood?" Flint asks, though part of him hopes it belongs to Singleton.    
  
"I don't know I'm not a doctor, Joshua was supposed to be getting one," she snapped; her accent more prominent in her anger.   
  
"He's on his way." Flint ignored her tone and didn't take his eyes off Silver.   
  
On the bed John groaned in pain, and brings a hand to his neck. The movement is aborted when he opens his eyes and sees the people surrounding him.    
  
"What-" he rasps, unable to finish the sentence.    
  
"Charlotte, go get some water for him to drink."   
  
"Of course Max, do you mind if I don't stick around though? Other peoples blood makes me queasy."    
  
"Yes, yes go on," Max replies.    
  
Charlotte quickly returns with the water and flits off again.    
  
"The rest of you can go too," Flint says and he can see the indignant reluctance from his own men immediately. "I'll keep you informed, but he needs space right now."    
  
"Your Captain seems to know what he's doing," Max says snidely. She still picks up the bucket of bloody water and leaves without a fuss though. Muldoon and Joji follow, slower but obeying orders nonetheless.    
  
He closes the door behind them and approaches John on the bed. Flint takes the cup of water and brings it to the other barely lucid mans lips. After the first dip John seems to regain something of himself and folds his hand over Flints on the cup.    
  
The cup is placed on the bedside table and the two men stare at eachother; Silver blinking slowly as he chased away unconsciousness.    
  
"What- I mean..."    
  
"Joshua, Muldoon and Joji bought you here. They thought you'd been injured, after you talked with Singleton." Flint explains, not holding back his questioning tone.    
  
"Mm, I remember. I couldn't breathe." John's voice is absolutely wrecked, like he's never used it before.    
  
"What the hell happened?"   
  
"He's going to call a vote in two days."    
  
Fucking hell.    
  
"And he's working with one Captain Vane."    
  
John finishes and all Flint can do is stare in absolute disbelief.   
  
"And what about that," Flint gestures to the bloody shirt on the ground.    
  
Silver shrugs, and pushes himself up with a quiet groan in pain. James makes a movement to stop him but the man pays no mind.    
  
"Its a lot of blood."    
  
Silver shrugs again, "I need another shirt."    
  
"John."   
  
It's only then that Silver looks properly at James, and while the look in his eyes doesn't exactly soften he does wrap his hand around Flints wrist.   
  
The hand is cold.    
  
Flint sits on the edge of the bed and uses his own hand to tilt John's chin up.    
  
"I know this wasn't here before."   
  
The scar is a clean line that stretches inexplicably from the other mans jugular and almost wraps itself around the front of John's neck   
  
Flint can feel John freeze under his hand and traces his fingers from the mans chin to the new line on his body.   
  
"But it looks old," Flint adds. "I won't say anything."    
  
John's eyes widen in surprise, "why?"    
  
His voice is still wrecked.    
  
"Do you want me to?"   
  
John shakes his head, hair falling in his eyes and Flint let's himself brush it away.    
  
"Why did this happen?"    
  
"I needed answers and Singleton for all his idiocy had them."    
  
Flint feels like he should tell John to rest his voice, answer his questions later but the man seems completely unfazed.    
  
"And there wasn't an easier way?"   
  
"I'm not sure I've ever done anything the easy way James."    
  
When he finished talking, John tips his head forward and brings his forehead to rest against Flints shoulder.    
  
And its James' turn to freeze. He stays there in that moment and feels John breath against him. They don't talk but Flint feels like this is the brink of something.    
  
"This can't happen again," he takes hold of John's shoulders and pushes the other man back so he can look him in the eye.    
  
Silver taps his fingers over the new scar on his neck.    
  
"It will, being a pirate isn't exactly risk free."    
  
"How long have you been like this?" Flint asks, and he knows he might not get an answer. A real one anyway.   
  
"I can't remember."   
  
"Lie."   
  
John laughs, short and gravelly. Flint smirks back at him.    
  
"Joshua went to get Howell," James says and at Silvers confused look he continues, "the ships doctor."   
  
"Ah."   
  
"Yes." Flint nods, eyebrows raised.    
  
"Can you...?"    
  
"Yes."    
  
John's following smile is something accidental, and James can tell it splits across his face against his will.   
  
"Don't worry about Singleton," Flint says and squeezes John's shoulder.    
  
"I'm not, I know you can't lose this."    
  
Once again James is struck with surprise but before he can say anything, he hears commotion outside of the room.    
  
"That'll be Joshua." John comments and shifts so he's leaning against the wall the bed is pushed up against.    
  
"I'll take care of it."    
  
John smiles again and squeezes James knee. He says more in that action than words, and Flint knows it maybe the only way a man like John can say thank you. Even then Flint himself knows now that he may owe this man more than he had anticipated. He had been indebted to him for the Urca knowledge, but now... Now there was this thing between them. Summed up clear as day by the scar that had taken its place across Silvers throat. 

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to this I guess, feel free to ask questions or scream at me, I love both


End file.
